The Old Maids' Club 02 - Pariah (27 page)

He ushered the last of the four out the front door and returned to the parlor, where Bethanne looked up at him and sighed.

“What was wrong with Mr. Norton? He seemed perfectly well versed in fulfilling the requirements of a butler, and is familiar enough with horses and carriages he could handle those needs as well.”

“He won’t suit,” Roman grumbled. If she couldn’t see that the man was old enough to be her grandfather and likely had the brittle bones which went with age, he couldn’t very well help her with that.

She scowled up at him. “He was the best option of the lot.”

He was. Which was a damned sorry state of affairs. The other possibility had weighed at least twenty stone, and could hardly move without huffing for breath. He wouldn’t have been able to fight off a fly, let alone Roman in a fit of rage during one of his episodes.

He shook his head. “I’ll have to post an ad and see what we can find that way. In the meanwhile, I’ll have Milner select an appropriate footman from Hassop House.” Or better yet, he’d make the selection himself. He needed to be bloody well sure that whoever it was could physically subdue him—and that was no small task.

“But won’t your father hear about it if a member of his staff is working somewhere else?” That haunted look was back in her eyes, tormenting him. “If my uncle—”

The door to the parlor burst open before she could finish her argument, and Finn dashed inside. He flung himself at her. She caught him, though she was nearly bowled over in the process. Almost immediately, her face softened to an expression of pure love.

“Mama! Miss you.” The boy giggled as she tickled his sides.

After a few minutes, she pulled him back to settle on her knee. “I’ve missed you too, my angel. What have you and Nurse been doing since breakfast?”

“Build my blocks,” he said solemnly. Then he gave a sly grin, much like the one he’d given Roman when begging for a biscuit not too long ago. “All fall down!” Finn tossed his arms up in the air on the pronouncement, leaving no doubt that he’d determined himself the champion for knocking over his carefully constructed block experiment.

“Oh, no,” Bethanne exclaimed in mock horror. “Did you build them again?”

Finn nodded, eyes serious and wide. “Yes. Fall down ‘gain.” A blasé shrug of his shoulders followed this final statement, prompting Roman to burst out in laughter.

“He’s been quite the master builder and destroyer this morning,” Mrs. Wyatt piped in from near the doorway. “Kept himself fully entertained for a good two hours.”

“Sounds to me like the young man might need to build them up once more,” Roman said, garnering Finn’s full attention. “One must practice something until one gets it right.”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, Finn had leapt from Bethanne’s lap and run across the room to take Roman’s hand. “You help?” The boy didn’t give him a chance to respond. He was tugging with all his might, leading him out into the corridor and down to the music room, and Roman had no choice but to follow or lose a couple of fingers in the refusal to do so.

He looked sheepishly over his shoulder to Bethanne. They needed to finish their conversation, settle on what was to be done about bringing a manservant on staff at the cottage, but the boy had other plans in mind.

She laughed, and a glimmer of emotion passed through her eyes as she waved them on. “Go. Finn needs your assistance, my lord.”

“And bless you for it,” Mrs. Wyatt added. “I could use a few minutes in a proper chair instead of on the floor.”

In no time, he was being pulled to sit at the boy’s level. Finn placed wooden blocks of various colors and sizes in his hands. After they’d been at it for a while and had quite the stack going, Finn placed a red block at the top of a long wall and then looked up at Roman with a victorious smile. “I love you.” The boy vaulted himself over the wall between them, knocking it over with his feet as his tiny hands grasped Roman about the neck.

He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he held onto the boy for dear life and patted his hands on Finn’s back, even whilst fighting back a strange burning sensation at his eyes. He couldn’t be about to cry. Could he?

“I—” Roman’s voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. Blast, what was he even trying to say?

Finn pulled away and looked at him, straight in the eye, still held aloft in Roman’s arms. He giggled, the sound tinkling with pure joy, just before he leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on Roman’s cheek.

Good God. His heart constricted within his chest, with a delightful sort of pain he’d never experienced before. He’d never been kissed by a child before. Not even Rawden or Royston’s children had ever dared to do such a thing. He’d rarely been around them, and they were always a bit quiet and nervous in his presence. All children were. Until Finn.

He must have been sitting there staring at Finn with a shocked, baffled expression for too long. The boy cackled with laughter and kissed his cheek again, screeching in his ear. “Sharp whiskers,” he howled just before once again putting both arms tight around Roman and hugging him hard. “Love you,” he repeated, his voice muffled against Roman’s neck.

And then those damned prickling, stinging tears broke free. He wrapped both arms firmly around Finn’s back and pulled him close. “I love you, too,” Roman said, no longer caring that his voice cracked with emotion over each word. Because, devil take it, he did.

A sudden sob sounded in the doorway, and Roman looked up just in time to see Bethanne brushing away a tear of her own before darting off.

He didn’t have time to ponder what her reaction meant. Finn switched from hugs and kisses to a full tickle attack, and they were rolling on the floor.

It had been six days since Bethanne had received a letter from either Jo or Tabitha. It was odd to go so long without hearing from at least one of the two. Very odd. Since they each learned to write, it had been a rare occasion that they’d go more than a few days without sending one another something in the post.

But surely, it just meant that they were busy with holiday preparations with the family. Surely, it wasn’t anything ominous. If there were anything for Bethanne to worry about, such as Isaac following through and making his way toward Hassop for a visit, they would have rushed to send her word. Bethanne had no doubts about that.

A letter
had
arrived from Miranda, though, just that morning. So now, while she tried to forget about what she’d witnessed between Roman and Finn in the music room, Bethanne sat down at her escritoire and broke the seal.

Dearest Bethanne,

Michael and I have the most delightful news. I wanted to tell you in person, but Jo has stressed how impossible it is for you to leave Round Hill, with how Aunt Rosaline is faring, and Michael refuses to let me travel, so I must tell you in a letter. You see, I’m with child. I’ve wanted to tell you for months, but was waiting for the perfect opportunity to share the news with you. Since it hasn’t arrived, and since Mother and Father were just here and learned of our happy news, I decided it was time.

Next summer or fall, after the baby is born and Michael is ready to travel with us, we’ll journey to Hassop to see you.

In the meanwhile, know that I love you more than I can possibly say. Give my love to Finn. He must be getting so big by now. I can only hope that Aunt Rosaline will know me when I am finally able to see her again.

All my love,

Your sister, Miranda Pickford

As she set the letter aside, Bethanne breathed a deep sigh. A baby. Miranda was going to have a baby. That was very good news. The best she’d heard in quite some time.

Bethanne felt lighter, like she could float away if her half-boots weren’t keeping her connected solidly to the ground. She still had a half dozen or so secrets she was forced to keep, it seemed, but at least Miranda was finally getting the happy ending she deserved: a husband who loved her and a child she could keep and love with no fear involved. Simple things, really. Not anything too far from the realm of the ordinary. Yet for quite some time, Bethanne had wondered if either sister would ever see things come together in such a way.

When she walked out of the parlor and made her way to the music room, it was with a smile plastered on her face.

Crandall lunged at Roman, catching him beneath the arms and lifting him bodily before sending them both rolling over the Hassop House lawn. Roman kicked out with his legs, trying to make contact, but the footman twisted out of reach.

A moment later, Roman was on his stomach with both hands pulled behind his back in a decidedly uncomfortable position. The weight of the footman kept his legs immobilized.

Definitely the best reactions of the three he’d tried. Crandall was lean, but strong. More importantly, he was fast on his feet and made quick decisions.

He would have been a good man to have on the battlefield, the sort of man one would be glad to have by his side.

“Well, that decides it, then.” Roman waited for Crandall to release him and stand. Once his limbs were free, Roman vaulted to his feet and brushed the muck from his clothes before drawing his coat on again. “Adams, Winchester, thank you both for your attempts, but I’ll ask you to stay on with your duties at Hassop House. Crandall, you’ll be coming with me.”

The three had been Milner’s primary suggestions for filling the position, at least on a temporary basis. Roman had thought about posting an ad, but that would run the risk of reaching the Shelton family in some way. Not a chance he was willing to take. No, Roman was going to have to make a trip to a nearby town in order to recruit the right man to permanently take on the job. Unless, of course, Crandall would be willing to stay on. It might be easier to replace a footman at his father’s estate than to find the right manservant for the Round Hill.

Adams and Winchester nodded and took their leave, and Roman turned to the remaining footman. “Pack yourself a trunk and be at the cottage before sunrise. I’ll expect you to begin your duties there as soon as you arrive.”

Crandall nodded as he drew on the Herringdon livery coat he’d removed for their skirmish. “Who am I protecting them from, if I might ask? I know the townsfolk aren’t too fond of Miss Shelton, but I can’t imagine any of them trying to hurt her. Or any of them, for that matter.”

Roman eyed him for a moment, debating how much he should reveal. He wasn’t in the habit of answering impertinent questions from servants—but Crandall needed to understand every facet of the reasons he was to work at the cottage.

“You’re protecting them from me.”

Crandall raised an eyebrow in question, but held his tongue.

“Sometimes, in my sleep, I forget that I’m not in the midst of battle. It isn’t safe for anyone to come upon me during these moments. There have been too many near misses.” He stopped there. Crandall didn’t need every tiny detail about what all had happened, or almost happened, and Roman damned sure wasn’t going to give him more than necessary. “When I sleep, I lock myself in my chamber. But you’re to be sure no one tries to enter and help me, under any circumstances.”

“Understood.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Crandall didn’t ask for any more explanation than that. Good. Now, more than he was before, Roman felt certain this was the perfect man for the position.

They discussed a few more pertinent details of Crandall’s changed employment, however temporary, and then Roman took his leave to return to the cottage.

When he arrived, he could hear the strains of the pianoforte. Bethanne must be playing for the rest of the household again. Roman smiled to himself, glad that at least for the moment, she was doing something other than worrying. It seemed to be such a rare occurrence that he decided to treasure it every time it happened.